after darwin

 im scared

im scared of my terror

when it swells it could burst

i fear also my rage

will fit the same curse

and wear the same suit

of anger but worse

I'm scared of my fear

i envy my lust

i hate my own envy

and i hate all the trust

i put into my

personal diaries

portraits and busts

i wish i knew people

like i knew my own buzz

the same halos and angles

that frame my own mind

the same angels and devils

that corner the walls

the same problem with people

that fits my wee scrawled

angsty expressions

like who gives a toss

if an ember falls into my

open grave id be cross

at my own resurrection

and my own jealous suffering

my own mind buffering the same senses

cuffing my spine

i look to the icy milton window

and i feel in my sorrow

theres a second part

undefined that ill flesh out

carved in the tremors and excesses unrefined

and wild in my heart

so me

im scared of people as if they own my own evil

as if they are at both climes my own god

and my own devil

i am poisonous green

like Brandywine spleen

left open to eaves and turned

into treacle by midnight moonbeams

forraging forests while still in my teens

i have double digits but it feels like 80

and at times when i fidget i feel as if just 3

and thats when i panic if im being too true or being too blue

if im saving the queen or just serving spew

if im strumming the lyre

or just losing tune

because im a liar

and fain that

that id know

and that which i grew

my emotion was just a prelude

to nothing that grew

theres this girl ive been pressing

and its got me confessing

that i will never know love

or compete in undressing

as just giddy friends

or as airy hands sweeping

the room with the sweetest mineral

love

one powerful drug

that will mess up your mind

mess up your groove

mess up your life

mess up your moves

and break bodies

porcelain eyes

and tear the sinew

and wear a disguise

while in the bedroom

and thats just something i would not do

along those lines

in my confines

anxiety slip slopes down my

girrafe spine

to terracotta residue

and im still depressing

over her lovely features

and feeling the stressing

creature ive made

again and again

in her image and name

and nobodys friend deserves

such a compressing

then i gave to her stars

plus the festering

pressing i gave to her moon

hello operator on the other end

its as if reeds blow through an empty stone

or a whistle echos through an heart ill never

know

ive got to go

and me I see people as people

they can be evil

they can be strange

they can excite

and also give pain

they can do both

but beyond darwin

and a snarl in

my tv

they can have hope

and hope never sees

the faces

when glows go out

and the rain shows up

and I go out

she goes down

i go up

and both tear

drops are found